


The Hunting Trip

by bigmikenergy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Animal Death, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Blood, Camping, Consent, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Smut, Submissive Zuko, Western Air Temple, blowjob, dominant sokka, handjob, sokka/zuko - Freeform, zukka - Freeform, zuko lowkey has a blood phobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigmikenergy/pseuds/bigmikenergy
Summary: Set around the Western Air Temple. The boys go hunting but there's only one sleeping bag... (the smut is in chapter 3 for y'all who wanna get right to the good stuff)...
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 400
Collections: Zukka (ATLA)





	1. Doubles

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not Inuit but I am indigenous (from the southeastern US) so I wanted to honor some of our customs when it comes to hunting. I'm considering expanding this to include some post-Boiling Rock scenes or maybe even post-canon scenes. Let me know what you think and what you want to see more of!

Zuko is always two people. With his mother, he says please and thank you and is gentle with the turtleducks. He always tells the truth and considers how his actions would make her feel. With anyone else, he can’t afford to be weak. His mother praises the Zuko that is thoughtful and kind. His father never praises Zuko at all. The Zuko that was decent to the palace staff was ridiculed. The Zuko who stands up for Fire Nation citizens condemned to die as bait is banished. When his mother leaves, Zuko has to smother that half of himself. Perhaps his mother had met a similar fate at the Fire Lord’s command. Thoughts like this also must be smothered.

By the time his search for the Avatar begins, the only Zuko left alive is hard and bitter. Uncle Iroh is so infuriatingly patient about everything- uncooperative tides or incompetent sailors or the elusive Avatar or Zuko’s mood swings. Iroh’s infinite magnanimity only makes him angrier. In his childish rage, Zuko took his uncle for granted and betrayed him. Now that Zuko had decided to be good, he feels worse than ever.

At times like this when his loneliness is absolute, Zuko feels like there is no one left for him to be. He is a no one, with nothing. Well, a no one, with a mission to teach the Avatar firebending. A no one tagging along with a group of kids who have no reason to trust him. Katara is chilly when she isn’t outright hostile. Aang is hesitant, but open-minded. Toph is jovially rude. She tags along to watch him train, and bends pebbles at the back of his head as he swings his broadswords. Anytime he turns to shout at her to stop, she acts as though nothing happened. Sokka assures him this is how Toph treats all her friends.

Sokka is the friendliest, even though he had reacted with such vehemence to Zuko’s arrival at the Western Air Temple. Zuko’s first night with the group, Sokka visits his room no less than three times. Zuko counts them carefully. First, Sokka comes in to bid him a short welcome. Katara is hot on his heels to deliver her chilling warning.

Alone again, Zuko’s heart pounds in his chest as he lays down to get some rest. No rest comes. Instead, he thinks about his first visit to the temple. His eye itched like hell under the bandage, making him even more irritable. He thinks about all the times he’s shouted at his uncle about his “honor” in the intervening years and groans.

About an hour later, Sokka knocks softly at Zuko’s door. Zuko sits up hurriedly, ashamed to be caught unawares.

“Dinner’s ready,” Sokka says.

“I’m not hungry,” Zuko grumbles.

“Not hungry?” Sokka scoffs as if the concept is completely foreign to him. “You will be tomorrow if we don’t find something good. It’s best to fill up while you can.”

“Even more reason for everyone else to eat without me. I know hungry, I’ll be fine,” Zuko says with finality. He lays down again and rolls over to face the wall. Sokka’s footsteps lead away from his room, fading away. Zuko sits up again as the footsteps make their way back.

“I brought your helping,” Sokka says, crossing the room to pass Zuko a bowl of soup. He sits on the floor with his own bowl. Sokka begins to eat animatedly, as if an unseen force would confiscate his bowl if he didn’t prove he was eating the best meal of his life. Zuko reluctantly joins him on the floor, sipping with more reserve. The broth is bland, but calms the churning in his stomach.

“So…” Zuko desperately tries to make conversation. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

Sokka erupts in barking laughter.

“Do I remember when you invaded my tribe and kicked my ass in front of the entire village?”

“I’m really sorry… about that,” Zuko offers lamely.

“It’s in the past. There’s no point worrying about it now. Besides, you’ve probably been invading villages since you were a toddler. I’m a much better warrior now,” Sokka boasts.

“I’ve done plenty of awful things while following your group, but that was the first time I did any invading,” Zuko admits.

Is he more ashamed of the first or second part of his confession? Compared to his sister, he’s always been too soft. But after the things he’s done in the name of his honor, or while trying to survive alone in the Earth Kingdom, he’s not fit to dine across from Sokka like an equal. Sokka fights to defend and protect. Zuko just destroys.

Sokka seems at a loss for words.

“Well, your invading skills will come in handy when we finally have to get Aang close enough to your father to end all this,” he finally manages.

“Good thing you’re a better fighter now,” Zuko says.

“You’re damn right I am!” Sokka agrees, back into comfortable territory. “I could take you or any other firebender.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” Zuko says, a smile playing at his lips.

“Don’t worry- we will.”

Something in Sokka’s voice tugs at Zuko’s stomach. He waves the strange feeling away. They finish their meal quietly. Sokka rises to leave, and takes Zuko’s bowl with him.

“Goodnight,” Sokka calls over his shoulder on his way out.

“Goodnight,” Zuko whispers.

Though flavorless, the soup has left him warm and full. When he lays down again he falls asleep quickly.

He wakes up to Sokka shaking his shoulders, a club hanging at his hip.

“What’s wrong?” Zuko asks blearily.

“I heard you yelling and struggling. I thought we had an attacker, but it was just a stress dream. You were thrashing so hard I had to wake you up,” Sokka says.

Zuko’s confusion gives way to face-burning embarrassment. Sokka turns to leave without waiting for thanks. After a moment, he turns back to give Zuko a stiff pat on the shoulder. Sokka leaves again, but his words haunt Zuko for the rest of the night. Sokka had no idea if there were one or twenty assassins, but he didn’t even wait to wake the Avatar. He readied his weapons and rushed to help Zuko. The implication that Sokka wants him there brings back that twisting feeling Zuko has no name for.


	2. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko tries new things, gets embarassed, and Sokka comforts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the actual hunting happens, but it's pretty quick for my squeamish friends.

Birdsong wakes Zuko in the grey light before dawn. He makes his way through the winding temple halls until he reaches the plaza where he first made his plea to the Avatar. Zuko rises the earliest, usually after fitful dreams. The first few mornings, he would wander lost through the dim temple until the sun was high enough to show him the way out. By now he can find his path even in the dark.

Birds cavort in the stagnant water of the fountain. Three sleeping bags are arranged around the remains of last night’s fire. Some way off, two earthen slabs form a tent. Zuko kneels at the fire to revive the coals. He slowly exhales, emitting just enough heat to warm his companions. Most of the temple is shielded by the cliffs, and the sun doesn’t reach their camp until late afternoon. 

By some instinct, he turns his head to find Sokka staring at him. He starts, but manages not to wake Aang or Katara. Sokka sits up to pull his hair back into his usual tail. Zuko is fascinated to see Sokka sleeps in his gloves and forearm bindings, but no tunic.

“We’re out of meat. Come hunting with me?” Sokka says. It sounds both like a question and a statement, as if Sokka knows how badly Zuko wants to go with him. Zuko often finds himself longing for more time alone with Sokka, but between training Aang and completing the chores that keep them all alive there have been no more stolen moments in Zuko’s room. 

Zuko leads Sokka to the deflated remains of his war balloon.

“I saw some deer-heron my first night here,” he explains.

“One of those would keep us going for days,” Sokka says, dropping to his knees and examining the ground.

“All I’m seeing is Toph sneaking up on you… she gets surprised and falls… here she is running away…”

There has been no rain in the past week to wash away the evidence of Zuko’s shame. His face and ears turn red, but Sokka’s voice holds no judgement. Just observation. Low to the ground, Sokka disappears into the underbrush. 

“Here!” he whisper-shouts. “Scat!”

Zuko hurries over to find Sokka crouched a pile of small round droppings and wrinkles his nose.

“Shhh!” Sokka cringes and Zuko shuffles through the leaves. “You’ll scare everything away!”

“Sorry... I’ve only been hunting once before,” Zuko apologizes.

“Here,” Sokka says as he rises to his feet. “Walk like this.” He crosses to stand by Zuko as he demonstrates. “Look carefully, then step with your toes, and slowly put your heel down.” 

Zuko takes a few steps, copying the way Sokka places his feet. The dry leaves still sussurate loudly in the quiet forest. Sokka shakes his head.

“Firebenders always step down hard to ground themselves. Walk like an airbender.”

Zuko considers how Aang moves in battle. He floats into his opponent’s blind spots, and is endlessly flexible in strategy. Zuko can’t imagine bending, or walking, without a solid connection to the earth. Where else was there to ground yourself, but the ground? Zuko attempts the toe-to-heel gait again.

“Better,” Sokka says tactfully. “But you’ll get even better with practice.”

Zuko finds himself seething. He didn’t earn the nickname “Blue Spirit” for nothing. He’s the reason Aang isn’t rotting in Zhao’s prison. He’s the reason their sky bison goes free. But, he wants to prove he can be silent, so that’s what he does.

“It looks like the herd was here recently. We should be able to catch up,” Sokka says. 

They walk in circles outward from the balloon. After half an hour, Sokka asks Zuko to take a turn holding the pack. The sun climbs higher as they walk for another half hour, then another. Rivulets of sweat pour down Zuko’s back. Sokka stops to remove his holster, cinch the sash at his waist, and pull his arms from the shirt to let it hang past his hips. Zuko freezes. Dappled forest light plays over Sokka’s muscled back and he loops his weapon back over his shoulder. A drop of sweat inches down Sokka’s spine. An image flashes through Zuko’s mind unbidden- sweat dripping lower, lower, those sunlit muscles arching… 

“Are you still coming?” Sokka asks.

Zuko shakes the thought away, and moves to catch up. 

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he says. 

“You sure do apologize a lot,” Sokka remarks.

“I have a lot to make up for,” Zuko says. 

“Don’t we all?” Sokka says with a laugh, diffusing Zuko’s melancholy. Sokka doesn’t continue their march yet, gazing at the sky with his hands on his hips.

“They’ve moved on,” he eventually declares. “Let’s find water and see what that does for us.” 

He alters their course to walk westward. After another hour, they reach a small stream. Zuko cups his hands to drink as Sokka splashes water over his hair.

“And I thought Ba Sing Se was hot,” Sokka says.

“Ba Sing Se isn’t just hot. It’s wet and smelly too.” Zuko says.

“And stiff,” Sokka adds.

After a brief rest, Sokka turns his attention to the ground once more. Zuko  
studies the set of Sokka’s brow and the way he holds his chin as he concentrates.

“Zuko, come look!” Sokka says.

Zuko squats beside him. Sokka points at teardrop shaped footprints leading  
across the muddy bank.

“With hooved animals like this, you look at the pointy end of the tracks to see which direction they’re going. The depth can tell you how fast they were going. We’re not too far now,” Sokka explains. When Sokka instructs Zuko, he does so without superiority. Zuko’s tutors left him feeling stupid. Iroh’s longwinded lessons rarely kept his attention. For the first time, Zuko is happy to learn.

They follow the stream. It gradually widens, and large rocks break the surface of the water. Sokka quickens their pace as they close in on the herd. Even Zuko can see the dozens of hoof prints accumulating in the dark earth. They cross the stream again, wading up to their thighs. On the other bank, they climb a steep rise. Suddenly, Sokka flattens to his belly. He waves at Zuko to get down. The rush of the water nearly drowns out Sokka’s whisper.

“The herd is grazing just over this hill. When I tell you to grab it, run like hell,” Sokka says as he pulls his boomerang from the holster at his back. In one fluid motion, he rises, lobs the boomerang through the trees, and sprints over the crest of the hill.

“Grab it!” he shouts, as hundreds of deer heron rise into the air with a magnificent roar of wings and indignant squaks.

Zuko overcomes his surprise to make pursuit, overtaking Sokka quickly. Sokka raises his arm and catches the boomerang as hundreds of deer-heron rise into the air, squawking and crying in a deafening chorus. The pair closes in on a stunned deer-heron, flapping its wings weakly as it lays on its side. Zuko slides to his knees as he scrabbles to grab the creature’s delicate neck. Its soft fur reminds him of the Avatar’s flying lemur. He presses it firmly into the dirt as it flails. 

Sokka pulls a knife from his belt as he too skids to a stop and slits the deer-heron’s throat. Its brown eyes roll wildly as its hot blood spills over Zuko’s hands. It falls silent. Zuko stares at his red palms as Sokka wipes his knife clean in the grass and sheathes it. Zuko’s throat feels tight and his stomach writhes. Before he can control himself, his right eye prickles with tears.

“Oh, Zuko,” Sokka says gently. He pulls their kill off of Zuko’s lap and steps over its ruined neck to sit by Zuko’s side. Sokka pulls the pack from Zuko’s back to get at the canteen. He pours water over Zuko’s shaking hands and slides an arm around his shoulder.

“The blood is kinda intense the first few times. Something else that’s easier with practice.” 

Zuko nods, wiping at his face with wet hands. 

“Let’s send it off and head back.”

“Send it off?” Zuko asks, proud that his voice doesn’t shake.

“Pray for it, basically,” Sokka says. He shuts his eyes, but doesn’t clasp his hands or bow. Zuko’s only experience with prayer is in stuffy Fire Temples and droning fire Sages. Sokka’s prayer is quick and simple.

“Thank you for your life, deer heron. We know if you had the choice you wouldn’t have given it up. You were a fighter, like us. But we’ll put you to good use so we can keep on living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My culture has some specific prayers we use after killing an animal but Sokka's words are only based on the spirit of the message, not the actual content. The Inuit culture that the Southern Water Tribe is based on is probably different and if you're curious I encourage you to go to https://www.itk.ca/ and read about them in their own words.


	3. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for: the gay shit.

Sokka leads the way as they carry the deer-heron back towards the Air Temple. Since he’s taller, Zuko carries most of the weight. Thankfully, Sokka shoulders the bloody half.

“When was the first time you hunted?” Sokka asks.

Zuko thinks first of his desperate search for the Avatar.

“My uncle and I were fugitives for a while in the Earth Kingdom after my father sent my sister to kill us. We were walking through the woods for days. My uncle almost killed himself trying to eat a poisonous flower. Finally, we found someone’s lost chicken-pig. I killed it through the stomach and ruined the meat. Then I threw up and cried,” Zuko admits.

“Today you’re only one for three! You’re improving!” Sokka says. Zuko laughs in spite of himself.

“You’re a good teacher,” he says without irony. “My story sucks. Tell me about your first time.”

“My first time, you say? I don’t kiss and tell…” Sokka jokes. Zuko's face and neck glow red.

“Okay, my story is actually pretty similar. My dad took me on a seal-turtle hunt with the other men. I didn’t get anything and I still cried.”

“And this was… last week?” Zuko says. It feels stupid coming out and he’s mortified the whole way through but Sokka laughs wholeheartedly. Zuko loves the way Sokka’s laughter spills out like nothing could contain it. He is unabashed in a way Zuko never could be.

“Zuko! A real joke! I’m so proud!”

The sun sinks quickly, meeting the horizon while they are still far from the temple. Sokka announces they should stop for the night. They fall to their own tasks without discussion or argument. Sokka ties the deer heron’s feet together and hangs it high above them over a tree branch. Zuko clears a circle of ground large enough to start a fire and to sleep on.

“I’m gunna go catch us some dinner,” Sokka announces, and disappears toward the creek. It’s barely ankle deep in this part of the forest, but he manages to return with fish after the sun has fully set. After Sokka sets the fish on stakes near the fire to cook, he strips off his clothes and hangs them over a low branch to dry. Zuko’s pants are also wet from their wading and his shirt is damp from sweat. He hesitates to follow Sokka’s lead, but the night air is already chilling his skin, and no amount of fire breaths will dry his clothes. Begrudgingly, he strips down to his undershorts. He sits by the fire with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, pointedly not looking at Sokka in the dancing firelight. Exhausted from the day’s walk, they eat their dinner quietly.

“Thanks for getting dinner. And for being patient with me today,” Zuko says finally.

“Don’t mention it,” Sokka mumbles through a mouthful of fish. Azula would call Sokka an uncouth peasant, but Zuko is intoxicated by how carefree each he is. Each mannerism, from the way his hands move when he talks to the way he sharpens his sword seems crafted to catch Zuko’s attention. No amount of willpower can keep his gaze or his thought from lingering on Sokka’s every move. Delight and dread wrestle in Zuko’s stomach as Sokka unrolls his sleeping bag.

“Oh, shit,” Sokka says. “I forgot to tell you to bring your sleep roll. I didn’t think we would need it.”

“That’s fine,” Zuko says quickly. “I’ll be fine without one.”

“Are you sure?” Sokka asks. “It’s only going to get colder.”

Zuko shakes his head furiously.

“Hunters have to huddle for warmth all the time back home. Plus, I’m involved with someone, so you wouldn’t have to worry about… you wouldn’t have to worry,” Sokka says.

Zuko refuses again. He feels if he were that close to Sokka he’d make some horrible mistake that would get him kicked out of their team for good.

Sokka sighs, and climbs into his sleeping bag.

“If you say so…”

Zuko lays down, leaves pricking at his naked skin. He faces away from the fire, away from Sokka. He clenches his eyes shut and wills himself to fall asleep. The front side of his body is freezing. He faces the fire, but his back is frigid. He rolls over again, inching as close as he dares without burning his hair off. It quickly becomes apparent that he will not be fine. He fire-breathes until his lungs are sore but his shivering returns too quickly each time.

Sokka sits up abruptly.

“I can’t sleep listening to you freeze to death. So I’m not asking this time– Come on,” he says.

Zuko has no argument. He slides into Sokka’s sleeping bag, avoiding Sokka’s eyes as usual. That feeling with no name is back, except Zuko can recognize it now. The knowledge makes him feel sick with shame. His stomach flutters as though it would burst out of him at any moment. As he lays down, he is immediately warmed. Sokka is like a second fire, blazing with heat. The bag stretches wider than Zuko expected, but only just. They lay side by side on their backs. Zuko makes himself as small as he can, stiffly allowing only their arms to touch. He begins to sweat, but he is still trembling.

Zuko startles as Sokka rolls over. They are forced closer together by the tight sleeping bag. Sokka’s head is almost on Zuko’s shoulder.

“I never sleep on my back,” he whispers. “And I’m known to kick so I’m already sorry.”

Zuko is already sorry too. His head spins and his heart rattles in his chest.

“Hey,” Sokka says, his voice so painfully soft. “Are you okay?”

Sokka places a hand on Zuko’s chest. Surely he can feel Zuko’s heart racing. Zuko risks a look. Sokka’s eyes, his cheeks, his lips are so close. Their noses practically brush against each other.

“I’m just cold,” Zuko lies.

“Here,” Sokka says. He lifts Zuko’s arm and ducks under it to lay on his shoulder. “Get closer.”

Sokka acts nonchalant, so Zuko follows suit. His arm wraps around Sokka’s shoulders. Sokka’s hand is still on Zuko’s chest and his knee inches over Zuko’s. Zuko can smell him, can feel his hair against his cheek, his nose against his neck. Zuko struggles to keep his legs still. His pent up energy accumulates in his hips and he struggles not to squirm under Sokka’s leg thrown causally over his own. Zuko’s hand involuntarily squeezes, gripping Sokka’s shoulder.

Sokka looks up at Zuko again. His eyes glow in the firelight. His eyebrows are arched as if he’s about to ask a question. Their faces are so close again. Zuko feels himself moving closer with an inexorable gravity.

With a massive effort, he wrenches himself away and rolls over. Sokka’s beguiling face is away from his, but he can still feel Sokka’s warm chest and stomach against his back. Their legs are still tangled. He was hoping this would diffuse the explosive energy between them but it seems to only make it worse. His traitorous hips wriggle, and he ends up grinding backwards against Sokka. A small strangled sound escapes Sokka’s throat, tickling Zuko’s neck on its way out. Sokka’s heart thumps against Zuko’s back, his lips are almost touching the base of his neck.

With slow movements, as though he’s afraid of spooking a skittish animal, Sokka slides his arm around Zuko’s waist. Zuko places his hand over Sokka’s, hating himself for it. The idea that Sokka wants this as bad as he does only makes him feel guiltier, like he’s corrupting them both. But Sokka already mentioned some “involvement,” so Zuko must be misunderstanding something. Zuko holds himself perfectly still, keeping his hips carefully away from Sokka.

“Are you still cold?” Sokka asks, his voice so quiet that it cracks a little.

“No,” Zuko answers. He’s never been hotter in his whole life. In a surge of bravery, or perhaps stupidity, he asks “Who are you with?”

“What? I’m with you,” Sokka answers.

“No. Who are you _with_ with?” Zuko repeats, regretting his choice to speak up, to lay in this sleeping bag, to come on this hunt more every moment.

“Oh,” Sokka pauses for a few painful moments before continuing. “Her name is Suki. We met a few months ago, right after we left the South Pole. We care about each other, but we’re never in the same place for more than a couple days. Not very “with,” unfortunately. Not as much as we’d like.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. The longing in Sokka’s voice fills Zuko with more familiar emotions- jealousy, anger, pettiness. He rolls onto his back again, with Sokka’s arm still over his stomach.

“But we have a kind of understanding…” Sokka says.

Zuko looks at him again, the nervous terror building once more.

“Since I hardly get to see her I told her I didn’t mind if she, y’know, happened to meet somebody and wanted to… do something about it. And she said it was only fair that I got to… do something about it too… if I felt like it,” Sokka explains, his voice halting and unsteady.

“I don’t understand,” Zuko says.

Sokka places a hand on his cheek and turns Zuko’s face closer.

“Do you feel like doing something about this?” Sokka’s voice is pinched and his eyebrows are asking that question again.

Before he can hold himself back, Zuko answers. It’s so soft at first. Zuko brushes his lips against Sokka’s, his hand moving to brush through Sokka’s hair. Their lips meet and part like gentle ocean waves, pressing harder by increments until their tongues intermingle and they can truly taste each other. Zuko slides his arm around Sokka again and presses him closer. Sokka’s leg slides further over Zuko’s. Zuko’s hand slides to Sokka’s waist, then back down to grip the back of his knee. Sokka's skin bursts into goosebumps under Zuko's carress. Zuko pulls Sokka into a straddling position. Sokka’s loose hair frames their faces as they kiss with greater urgency. Once he’s allowed himself this much, Zuko can’t stop. He runs his hands down Sokka’s back to cup his ass. Sokka makes that magnificent gasping noise again as Zuko squeezes him tightly. Their hips grind together, separated only by thin fabric.

Sokka breaks away, standing himself up on his elbows. He brushes the hair from Zuko’s forehead.

“You’re so beautiful,” Zuko sighs.

“Beautiful?” Sokka asks indignantly. "I'd say I'm more dashing," he raises an arm to kiss at a flexing muscle. It's as adorable as it is insufferable.

“No, beautiful. Get over it,” Zuko says.

“I’ll show you who’s beautiful,” Sokka grumbles, falling in for another kiss.

Zuko cradles Sokka as he rolls over on top of him. The sleeping bag is twisted around their legs, and their shoulders spill out onto the ground. Zuko slowly kisses Sokka’s jaw, his ear, his neck, his clavicle. Sokka releases another breathy sound as Zuko’s teeth brush against his skin. Encouraged, Zuko uses his teeth again, timidly biting Sokka’s neck. Sokka’s skin is so enticing, but he would hate to bruise him or make him bleed. In a breathless whine, Sokka begs him to bite harder.

“I’m not fragile,” he says in his delicious whisper.

Zuko kisses Sokka’s chest, sucking hard and biting down with a little more force. Sokka thrusts his chest higher. His hand tightens to a fist in Zuko’s hair. Zuko pulls away to admire the red mark he’s left on Sokka’s skin. Maybe he _does_ want to bruise him. He glances up at Sokka’s face. His chin is pushed upwards, and his eyes are screwed shut. His face is almost pained. Sokka pulls Zuko back down by the hair. Zuko notices a wide, stupid smile breaking across his face as he kisses Sokka’s sternum. He moves across Sokkas chest, dragging his lips and tongue luxuriously across smooth skin. His nose brushes across Sokka’s nipple and Sokka releases another desperate gasp for air. Zuko softly kisses it, fascinated by the throaty grumble this elicits. He sucks the peaked skin into his mouth, trying his teeth again, but this time Sokka yelps. This sound isn’t like the others. He lets go and looks up quickly.

“Not so hard,” Sokka says. “I’m really sensitive there.”

Zuko nods as he plants a kiss on Sokka’s ribs. Sokka’s hips buck and his feet cycle, peeling the sleeping bag farther down their bodies. Zuko can feel Sokka twitch through his sarashi, dick jumping against Zuko’s stomach. Zuko looks up at Sokka. Sokka’s eyes are impossibly wide as they meet Zuko’s. He almost looks afraid.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asks this time.

“Come here,” Sokka waves Zuko up. “Let’s fix this mess and get off the dirt.”

Zuko sits up and puts his head on his knees to catch his breath. Sokka’s wipes loose grass off his back, then rests his hand softly on Zuko’s shoulder for a moment. Wordlessly, Zuko returns the favor. He loves how smoothly they cooperate, moving in tandem like two limbs of one body. With some awkward wriggling, they work themselves back into the sleeping bag. Some barrier has been shattered, and now Sokka lies easily against Zuko. Their chests rise and fall on top of one another like waves carrying a ship. Zuko strokes the prickly hair at back of Sokka’s head. Sokka traces circles on Zukos chest with a finger. Zuko sighs deeply. His muscles release tension he didn’t know they carried. Sokka flattens his hand, slowly rubbing circles on Zuko’s stomach. With each cycle, he inches lower, but never brushes past Zuko’s hips. Zuko is seized with impatience. He grasps Sokka’s wrist. Sokka freezes, looking up at Zuko in alarm. Zuko turns his head away as he lays Sokka’s hand on top of his loincloth.

“Hey,” Sokka says, pulling his hand away to tilt Zuko’s chin. “If you want me to touch you, you’ve gotta look at me.”

Zuko wrenches his eyes open, his face burning with embarrassment and excitement. Sokka kisses his cheek as he nudges Zuko’s loincloth aside. Zuko’s stomach wrenches in the most pleasant way as Sokka licks his palm. Sokka wraps his hand around Zuko, slowly stroking him. Zuko’s eyes slam shut again, and he leans upward to press his forehead against Sokka’s.

Sokka tightens his fingers as he pulls his hand from base to tip. Zuko shudders, clenching Sokka’s shoulder so hard his nails dig in. Sokka goes agonizingly slow. He closes his hand over Zuko’s head at the top of each stroke. Zuko thrusts against Sokka’s hand, so turned on it almost hurts

“More,” Zuko grunts.

Sokka squeezes a little harder, and rubs Zuko quicker. Zuko’s hand slides down to Sokka’s ass and cups as big a handful as he can manage. Sokka is still hard against his leg. Zuko’s hips buck, and Sokka moves his hand even faster, squeezing tight at the base of Zuko’s dick. Zuko grips the side of Sokka’s neck with his free hand.

“Whose beautiful now?” Sokka asks.

“Huh?”

“I said, whose beautiful now?” Sokka repeats.

“Still you,” Zuko gasps through shuddered breaths.

Sokka’s hand begins to slow.

“Just say “I am” if you want me to keep going,” Sokka instructs evilly. “Now come one, tell me whose beautiful.”

When Zuko hesitates, Sokka’s hand freezes completely, fingertips lightly resting on the head of Zuko’s dick.

“Please don’t stop,” Zuko begs.

“You know how to make me keep going,” Sokka says, unrelenting.

“I am, I am, _Iamiamiamiam_ , just please, please don’t stop,” Zuko moans pitifully.

Sokka laughs softly as he circles a thumb over Zuko’s head. Zuko sucks air sharply between his teeth, his legs wildly cycling and tangling their sleeping bag again.

“Sokka,” he moans.

“What's that, beautiful?” Sokka asks petulantly, picking up his pace again.

“Sokka…” is all Zuko can say, clawing at Sokka’s chest. Now Sokka cradles Zuko, resting his cheek on Zuko’s hair. Zuko presses against him.

“You look so good, so good,” Sokka murmurs.

“Faster,” Zuko moans again.

Sokka obliges, shaking their sleeping bag with the furiosity of his strokes.

“Are you gunna cum in my hands?” he asks, almost taunting.

This is a foregone conclusion to Zuko, but he delights in Sokka pointing it out.

“I’m gunna cum,” Zuko huffs into Sokka’s chest. “I’m gunna…”

“Cum for me,” Sokka orders, tangling his free hand in Zuko’s hair.

The command is enough to set Zuko over the edge. He gasps for air as he cums through Sokka’s fingers. Too soon, it’s over. Zuko’s legs pour sweat, and his muscles feel exhausted. His eyes drift closed.

“Sorry for making a mess,” Zuko says weakly.

“Don’t apologize for good things. I like making you messy,” Sokka replies in the same crooning voice he used while pleasuring Zuko.

Zuko looks up at Sokka. He shakily raises his fingers to Sokka’s lips.

“Help me get wet?” he asks.

Without breaking eye contact, Sokka sucks Zuko’s finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around Zuko’s fingertip before raking his teeth softly across the knuckle. Zuko is almost too stunned to move when Sokka opens his mouth again. Zuko reaches under Sokka’s sarashi to rub his wet fingertip in a circle on the tip of Sokka’s dick. Sokka sighs, untying the loincloth himself. Zuko runs his finger down the center vein until he reaches Sokka’s balls. He surprises himself by leaning down to kiss Sokka’s head. Sokka nearly cries out as Zuko parts his lips and begins to lick. He wraps his lips around Sokka’s dick and swirls his tongue against the dip where Sokka’s head becomes shaft. He uses one hand to grip the base of Sokka’s dick and jack him off. Sokka places a hand on the back of Zuko’s head as his hips pulse to match Zuko’s rhythm. Zuko tries desperately to remember what subtle movements of the lips and tongue make this feel so good when he’s on the other side of things. All he can recall is undifferentiated pleasure. He tries his hardest to open his mouth wide enough to keep his teeth out of the way and waggles his tongue side to side.

Quickly, too quickly, Sokka’s dick begins to pulse in his mouth. Sokka’s cum shoots down Zuko’s throat and pools out of his lips. When Sokka falls still, Zuko leans over into the grass to spit. He climbs back up to look at Sokka’s face. Sokka is sprawled on the grass. They’ve freed themselves of the sleeping bag yet again.

“Now, I’m a mess,” Sokka says with a smile.

“You were right, it is a good thing,” Zuko says. He leans over to the nearby pack to find the canteen and swish water through his mouth. He cycles one, two, three mouthfuls but a persistent oily slick coats his mouth. He wets his loincloth and uses it to himself off. He tosses it aside in the dirt.

“I’ve gotta piss,” Sokka calls over his shoulder as he disappears behind a tree, not bothering to dress.

Zuko shakes out the leaves from the sleeping back and spreads it out again. He is almost asleep when Sokka returns. Sokka snuggles against Zuko’s back, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his face between Zuko’s shoulder blades. He plants one last kiss on Zuko’s back. Zuko is lulled to sleep by Sokka's soft snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell this was written by a bi nb bitch who has sex with lots of lesbians...? Zuko's complete inability to pick up on signals is nigh on self-insert. Shout out to the ATLA wiki for telling me what Sokka's underwear are called.


	4. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little wrap-up chapter where Zuko gets emo and realizes he may have bit off more than he can chew.

Zuko wakes alone. He is disappointed not to get any last minute attention before they rejoin the group. He rolls up the sleeping bag and straps it to the top of the pack. As he clears away the remains of the fire, he finds his ruined loincloth. It's still damp, and covered with dirt. He digs a small hole and buries it unceremoniously. Sokka emerges from the woods carrying something in his shirt. He scoops some out and holds out a handful of dark purple berries.

“I saw Aang eating these the other day, so I’m pretty sure they’re safe,” he says as Zuko lifts his cupped hand.

Whatever barrier was shattered the night before has reformed. They don’t meet each other's eyes as they eat, berry by berry. One handful of fruit each isn’t enough to fill their stomachs, but they begin their trek to the temple. They walk in silence. Sokka doesn’t even make a joke after a sudden, thunderous burp. Zuko's mind races with awful possibilities. Sokka must be full of regret about last night. Zuko must have been terrible. Sokka must be missing his girlfriend. Zuko must be a poor substitute.

So many things are making sense, but just as many things are even more confusing. Zuko and Mai kissed and fooled around before his banishment, but they were still children. They were playacting at what they thought sex was. They had never made each other cum until their time at Ember island, alone in her parent's beach house. Even then, it was nothing like last night. Something warm and urgent and vital had been missing. He thought Mai made him happy. Now he knows they were just happy to be miserable in solidarity. They eased their terrible loneliness together, but they weren't in love. They were in hate- hate for themselves, their parents, the whole world. He didn't like Mai. He liked being wanted. This revelation makes him feel slimy, like a freshly thawed wood-frog. This is true dishonor. Mai deserves better than a pathetic boy who chases after boys with girlfriends. Does Zuko deserve better than this? Frigid girlfriends and boys who bring him food and wash his hands and warm him but end up with another girl? For a few beautiful hours, it had seemed like Sokka wanted him. It's easy to grasp at something in the dark. It's much harder to keep your grip on it in the light.

They reach the canyon just before midday. Before they begin to climb the winding steps into the temple, Sokka stops and sets the deer-heron on the ground.

“I usually do the gross stuff where Aang can’t see. Why don’t you go ahead and let everyone know we didn’t get murdered?” he says.

Zuko knows Sokka is sparing him from the sight of more blood, and decides to accept the kindness instead of letting it wound his pride. As he leaves Sokka to butcher the animal, he prepares an explanation for Katara’s inevitable accusations when he returns alone. Like every morning, he revisits his mental countdown to the arrival of Sozin’s comet. The work ahead of them is daunting. Between all the training Aang has left, and Toph’s uncanny sense of where everyone is and what they’re doing inside the temple, there will be no more stolen nights alone with Sokka. For his own sake, Zuko doesn't know if there should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is every traumatized kid who jumps headfirst into polyamory without examining his insecurities... pray for him...


End file.
